THE YOUNG LADY'S FRIEND. Written for the Young Lady's Friend. ON THE CULTIVATION OF PIETY, CONSIDERED AS A TALENT. BY MRS. ELIZA BIGELOW. In a previous communication I promised that when I wrote again, I would suggest a few methods by which young ladies may add strength to the power of their piety. Let it be a settled principle, that you cannot in the least resemble God, unless you live for others. It is the element of heaven. Benevolence strikes every melody and touches every string throughout those blessed regions. It has descended to earth and has touched your heart, but it will go no further. It reaches not the world of despair not a ray of love in that dark world! Live for others. Bless every one you meet, with a word, or thought, or look of love. A distinguished theologian remarked before he ascended to heaven, that no person could converse with another one half hour, without producing an impression which would go on through eternity. In many cases, it might be limited to moments. A few evenings since, when you were arranging your tollet to meet some of your young friends in a social party, did your heart ascend in prayer that your Savior would accompany you, give you a seat by some one whom you could benefit by your conversation, and assist you to do something for him in the world in which he has left you? You lately lodged with a young friend. Did it occur to you, "this is a special opportunity? In the stillness of night I can speak to her of her soul and she will listen.' Thousands of such cases are familiar to those happy ones "who abide under the shadow of the Almighty." Let me select one instance only. A young lady of my acquaintance, of uncommon diffidence, but possessing piety, was visiting a friend in one of our cities. Toward evening, another young lady entered for a similar purpose, from a distant town. The two young strangers happened to occupy the same sleeping apartment. The Christian female, whose age could not exceed seventeen, felt that the circumstance and occasion demanded a duty from which her delicacy shrunk; but love to her Redeemer was the stronger principle. Here was a daughter of 136 ON THE CULTIVATION OF PIETY. pleasure and fashion, brought, in the providence of God to her, and probably for some special purpose. She was not long in deciding upon duty. She took her small Bible and read a few verses, extinguished her light, and then sought the aid which she needed. She gently entered upon her great purpose of finding a place in that young heart to throw the seed of truth. The ear of her companion was opened. She wept as she heard in melting tones, of the judgment, of death and of eternity. The morning came. They parted, but with tears. After many years had rolled on, the once thoughtless girl met her faithful friend at her own home. She rushed to her arms and burst into a flood of tears, as she exclaimed, "You led me to Jesus! O, that night can never be forgotten!" If you, my dear young friend, have formed the unalterable purpose of seeking opportunities continually to do something for the souls of others, such scenes of unutterable happiness are familiar to you. How many can say to you, "You led me to Jesus?" Say, do you in the presence of the gay and worldly, venture to remember Him, who commissions angels to guard you by day and watch your pillow at night? In the city of Philadelphia there resided two friends, endeared to each other by every tie, save one. Both were very young, very beautiful, but one only was encircled by the golden chain which draws the soul back to God. The other was suddenly taken ill, and in a few hours lay at death's door. Her friend hastened to her side. She saw that she was going to leave her. "O," thought she, "her soul! her soul! I have yet never spoken to her of her soul !" She bent over her and wept, but could not articulate a word; and, after ineffectual effort, hurried from the dying girl to her home; but pain and remorse chased sleep from her eyes. That beloved, long neglected friend she must meet again at the final bar, only to meet her reproachful glance and to see her led away to the world of despair! She could endure it no longer, but arose and in the midnight hour found again the dwelling of her dying friend. "I have come back," she faltered, " to speak to you of the Savior." "O, Eliza," interrupted the dying girl, "I always supposed you were a Christian; but when I saw you come to me to-night, knowing that I was going directly into eternity, and yet not a word did you say of my poor, lost soul, I would not believe you had one spark of religion. O tell me what will become of me.' I need not add, that she did not again turn her back upon her suffering companion, but was as a ministering angel to her during the remaining hours. But that bitter MARRIAGE. 137 Her forgiving Savior made it a salutary lesson was never forgotten. The last imploring looks of the dying "Life is the hour which God hath given.” O, my young friends, if "your life is hid with Christ in God," your morning and your evening walks, your shady retirements will be witnesses of your faithful efforts for Christ. Again. Have you sufficiently tried the power of prayer as a means of increasing your piety? Can you limit this power? Can you place bounds to this instrument of usefulness? Did you ever, for one single Sabbath, try its power? Unwearied by care, or labor, you rise refreshed and prepared to spend a whole day with God. Suppose you enter at once into that secret place of the Most High, and let every thought be winged with prayer. As you sit, or walk, pray, sing or hear, you are there, in that secret place. It has been one of the days of heaven. The streams of love have flowed down into your soul, and thousands may through you be touched by the living waters! How enriched you have been! What golden treasures you have gathered in this one Sabbath! Richer and still richer, O youthful Christian, may all thy remaining Sabbaths be upon earth; for who may limit the power of prayer? Rochester, Mass., May, 1841. MARRIAGE. - Marriage always effects a decided change in the sentiments of those who come within its sacred pale under a proper sense of the responsibilities of the married state. However delightful the intercourse of wedded hearts, there is, to a well regulated mind, something extremely solemn in the duties imposed by this interesting relation. The reflection that an existence which was separate and independent is ended, and that all its hopes and interests are blended with those of another soul, is deeply affecting, as it imposes the conviction that every act which shall influence the happiness of the one, will color the destiny of the other. But when the union is that of love, this feeling of dependence is one of the most delightful that can be imagined. It annihilates the habit of selfish enjoyment, and teaches the heart to delight in that which gives pleasure to another. The affections become gradually enlarged, expanding as the ties of relationship and the duties of life accumulate around, until the individual, ceasing to know an isolated existence, lives entirely for others, and for society. But it is the generous and the virtuous alone, who thus enjoy this agreeable relation. Some hearts there are, too callous to give nurture to a delicate sentiment. There are minds too narrow to give play to an expansive benevolence. A degree of magnanimity is necessary to the existence of disinterested love or friendship.-Border Tales. 138 ALL THINGS FLEETING. Written for the Young Lady's Friend. ALL THINGS FLEETING. I saw a maiden in her youth, I saw a dewdrop's pearly cup A lovely floweret, snowy fair, Then near me rose through ether air, Its sweetest carol pouring forth I turned, and lo! a willow drooped I passed the leaf, the dew-drop rare The lovely flower lay withered too, While broken near me, was the plant -- The songster's carol, soft and clear, O fleeting are all earthly things, The strongest, with the weakest, bow, Then prize not much earth's loveliness; But lay your fondest hopes in Heaven; ANNA. HOME, SWEET HOME. 139 "HOME, SWEET HOME." Among the numerous interesting and touching compositions, prepared to be sung to the sweet melody called "Home, sweet home," the one found numbered 96 of the first volume of the "Christian Lyre, has always been clothed with peculiar interest to my mind, from the circumstances under which it was originally composed, which was some 15 years ago, in London, and were as follows: In the city of London there lived at that time a young, gentleman and young lady, both brought up in the lap of affluence, and furnished with what this world is wont to call a finished education. And as they had both embraced false sentiments in relation to religion, they felt no scruples of conscience in regard to indulging in all the rounds of fashionable dissipation, such as visiting theatres, circuses, balls and watering places, &c., thus literally experiencing the sentiments contained in the original song, called "Home, sweet home," viz: "Mid pleasures and palaces, though we should roam," &c. Their spirits being so congenial and fortunes ample, a mutual attachment sprung up between them, and consequently a marriage engagement was entered into. Inasmuch, however, as he was a major in the English service, the duties of his office rendered it necessary for him occasionally to leave London for months at a time; but whenever he was thus called to leave for a season, the object of his supreme affection on earth, he would invariably request her before separating to sing to him his favorite song, "Home, sweet home;" which request would be invariably repeated on their first meeting after an absence from each for a season. During his absence from London for some months with the army, a friend of this lady induced her to accompany her to hear an evangelical preacher, who was preaching in one of the city churches with much success, in the midst of a revival of religion, where she was brought under powerful convictions of her awful state as a sinner before God; from which anguish of mind she was happily relieved by an unreserved surrender of herself, through grace, to the dear Redeemer. But while permitted to walk with Christ as the bridegroom of her soul, in the raptures of her first love, as on the mount of transfiguration, her reflection turned with intense interest to the soul of him who was the plighted partner of her earthly career, and her ardent prayer to God the Redeemer was, that he also might be converted from all the lying vanities of this delusive world, and |